Become
by KingofJesters
Summary: About friendship, family, and learning to trust. Set in modern day. Rated T for slight swearing.
1. Prologue

_A/N: A random plot bunny that refused to go away. So, there is my newest story, fraught with inaccuracies and random references. Do I care? Not really. _

_Enjoy anyways! _

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><p><strong>Become<strong>

Prologue

The day that the strange boy entered my life has been engrained in my memory forever. Not in a "oh we are soul mates and meant to be together forever" kind of way, but more of "we will always be best friends and look out for each other" kind of way.

The circumstances that brought the boy into my life, and the life of my family's, were unusual to say the least.

At first, it was just another foster child, the only thing that was unusual was that we knew very little about him except for his name; _Quasimodo_.

No last name, no picture. Just a funny name for a weird kid with apparently no past—and no future. According to the social worker that handed him over that day (a Tuesday if I remember correctly) he had been shuffled around from family to family for his entire life; since his teenage mother gave him up for adoption the day he was born, fourteen years ago.

We were totally unprepared for what was coming.


	2. Chapter One: Meeting

_A/N: So. Here is the first chapter of _Become._ As mentioned before, this will be completely riddled with inaccuracies. I have done no research whatsoever on the subject of foster care, and frankly, I don't think this fic really needs to be that accurate. That's why it's a fanfiction. But, if anyone actually knows anything about the process and would like to divulge some more info, just PM me please. _

_Also, I'm probably going to update every Friday. This story is already mostly done, it's just the last few chapters I have to actually write out and a few edits that need to happen. But, that will be done as needed. _

_Disclaimer: Since I am not Disney, I don't own these lovely characters. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. _

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><p>Chapter One – Meeting<p>

_Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul._

_~Emily Dickenson_

The only reason my family could even accept Quasimodo into our home was because I was the youngest of two. My older brother had graduated and moved on to his own life, while I was stuck at home. (Not that's a bad thing, it was just hard seeing your big brother, the person you've looked up to for such a long time, grow up and leave without you, you know? Maybe you do, maybe you don't. All I know is that it was _definitely_ hard for me.)

Anyways, that year I turned eighteen, an adult, and now my parents could start taking in older kids as part of their foster care "calling" or whatever they described it as. For years, they had taken in babies and younger kids from time to time, just whenever they could handle it with two teenagers in the house. And the state let them. But never, _ever_, could they take in older kids until their own kids were older and grown. Since most of the foster kids don't stick around once they turn seventeen, I was "safe" from the "bad kids", according to them.

So my parents agreed to take in Quasimodo, whoever this kid was. From his sparse file, all we could glean was his name, his age (fourteen) and that he had been a "problem child" since the day he was born, but it didn't say why.

"Poor kid," clucked my Mom, the sweetheart. She believed that everyone has some good in them somewhere, but that with most people it's been so forced back that it's hard to see anymore. She is determined to see the good in everyone, even if it's not there. "He's just had a rough life, that's why he's had so many issues."

"Or he's a bad kid," remarked my Dad drily. "Some are you know."

"Richard," scolded my Mom. "Give the boy a chance. He might be a very good boy on the inside."

I rolled my eyes as the two continued arguing, and decided to reserve my judgment on the kid until I met him.

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><p>Tuesday that week was rainy. Since its Oregon in the summertime, it's usually raining, so nothing seemed out of the ordinary.<p>

Until the social worker arrived.

This social worker was unlike any I'd seen so far. He stood tall and menacing in his black suit with a bright red tie. He had a pointed nose, like a hawk, and when he talked the nostrils would flair in an unattractive and intimidating way.

I was the one who answered the door. When the social worker saw me, he seemed to look down his nose at me, and said in a contemptuous tone, "And where might your parents be, young lady?"

I might as well have been six years old I felt so stupid. "They're, uh…"

"Do you know where they are or not, stupid girl?"

I glared at the social worker. "Are you the social worker here with Quasimodo?"

At that the social worker seemed to get quietly angry, as if I'd offended him by mentioning Quasimodo's name. "One should not answer a question with another question," he said, in a voice that seemed to be the calm before the storm.

"And one should not insult their hostess," I retorted. The social worker smirked at me. Later I realized that meant he was impressed.

"Quasimodo is in the car, waiting as I instructed him to," he answered simply, smiling down at me. I shivered. "Now, where are your parents? There are certain things I must discuss with them."

I paused. "They're in the study. Come in, and I'll go get them."

As the man stepped inside, I caught a glimpse of a face, contorted by rain and glass, in the backseat of a car before the door closed behind the social worker.

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><p>It seemed as though my parents and the social worker, Mr. Frollo, took <em>forever<em> as they talked about who knows what. If I had been brought up differently, I might have listened to the conversation. But as it was, I remained a good girl and stayed up in my room.

I watched the car from my upstairs bedroom window. All I could see was the top of the big, black suburban, but I couldn't help imagine who the person was that was inside the car. I wanted to go outside and talk to the kid, just to get the ball rolling, but the only way outside was through the living room-where my parents and Frollo were. So all I could do was wait.

Or, as a devious thought entered my mind, go out the _back_ door.

In my house, there are two sets of stairs. The front stairs that everyone uses to get up and down, and the back stairs, the ones that we use to stack all our crap on as we're cleaning the house. When my brother was home, the stairs would get piled with all the stuff that we had brought downstairs over the week that needed to go back upstairs. Now that he was gone, the stairs were relatively clean most of the time.

Perfect for secret meet-and-greet missions.

Grabbing my rain jacket from its hanger, I shrugged it on as I snuck down the stairs, then veering off towards the back stairs. I could still hear muffled voices coming from the living room, and they sounded angry. Not pausing to worry about it right now, I crept down the stairs and out the back door. Pulling my coat tighter around me as the rain and cold hit me, I ran around the back of the house to the front.

Running up to the car, I rapped my knuckles on the backseat window. I saw movement inside the car, but I couldn't make out the face through the rain and the slightly tinted windows. Finally, the door opened.

"Yes, M-Mr. Frollo…oh," said Quasimodo, stopping short when he saw me.

I don't remember being frightened _of_ him, just very, very concerned _for_ him. Quasimodo was horribly deformed, with a bulge over his left eye and a nose that seemed to be pushed up to his forehead. His hair was carrot red, and his eyes (which quickly darted away from me) were a very pretty blue-green. He wore a green sweatshirt that had obviously been altered for him, and baggy jeans with a small and faded messenger bag at his large feet.

When he saw me, at first he was shocked. But he quickly cowered away and seemed to be trying to shrink into the car seat. Overcoming my initial shock at his unfortunate appearance, I said, in what I hoped was a friendly way, "Hey, do you mind scooting over a bit? It's pretty wet out here and they don't want us inside yet."

Quasimodo obliged and I sat in the seat next to him, leaving the door open so he wouldn't feel too uncomfortable. As we sat there in awkward silence, I decided to try and break the ice. I stuck out my hand.

"I'm Izzy," I said. "And yes, it's spelled like the restaurant."

Quasimodo looked at my hand curiously for a moment, before taking it in his own massive hand and shaking it. "Quasimodo," he said quietly.

I nodded. "So, Quasimodo, it looks like you'll be staying with us for a while. If that's alright with you, anyways."

Quasimodo looked at me briefly before looked away again. "I...d-don't think I have a c-choice in the matter, do I?"

I smiled, in what I hoped was a kind and reassuring way. "Well, not _really_ according to the state, but my parents will probably ask you, so it's good to have an answer ready." When Quasimodo looked concerned about that I quickly added, "Not that you have to, it's not required or anything, but, you know, Be Prepared, and all that crap." _Nice going, Izzy, _I thought. _Way to be nice to the new kid. Let's just freak him out and see what happens, shall we? Gosh, you're stupid. _

But, to my surprise, Quasimodo nodded. "I-I would like to s-stay here," he stuttered nervously.

I smiled. "Any particular reason?" I asked, curiously.

Quasimodo shrugged, refusing to look me in the eye. But, in that moment, I could see that he desperately wanted to stay here: so very badly. But what I couldn't figure was _why_.

Suddenly the car door opened all the way and there was Mr. Frollo, glaring down his hawk nose at me. "What are _you_ doing here?" he demanded, furious. He put extra emphasis on "you", like it was a crime to go sit in somebody's car and talk to their passenger.

I stood my ground. "I just wanted to introduce myself to Quasimodo, since he is going to be staying here for a while," I said firmly. "You can't keep me from that."

Mr. Frollo seemed to draw inside himself, like a cobra about to strike, and I became slightly nervous. I glanced at Quasimodo, and he seemed incredibly frightened, even though he tried to hide it. I felt enormous pity for him if this _man _was his regular social worker. "You realize that entering someone's car without their permission is against the law. I could have you arrested," Mr. Frollo said in a smooth voice.

I was flabbergasted. "Arrest me?" I cried. "On what grounds? Quasimodo _let_ me into the car; it wasn't like I was stealing anything!"

Mr. Frollo glared at the kid behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Quasimodo flinch visibly. Then Mr. Frollo turned his gaze back to me. "Get back inside the house, I must talk to Quasimodo alone. Tell your parents he will be inside shortly." He dismissed me with a curt nod of his head.

I stomped back inside, enraged that he would even treat me like that! Or anyone for that matter! Seeing the look of anger on my face, my Mom was concerned and asked why. I told her, expecting her to be mad at me for sneaking out and talking to Quasimodo. Surprisingly, she was not.

"That _man_," she said with contempt in her voice. "Has no business caring for children. Do you know what he said to me and your father about Quasimodo?" I shook my head. "_Well_, he said that we should reconsider taking him in because he's completely different from everyone else. When your father asked why, Mr. Frollo said, _and I quote_, that 'Quasimodo is a boy who has been severely deformed since birth. Many families have refused to take him because of his face, and frankly I don't blame them.' Can you believe it? Then he goes on and on about how _irksome_ the poor boy is, and how much he can't stand him. Well your father and I just lost it then and there. We agreed that we would take him, no matter what he looked like.

"Then he starts going on about how we'd be putting you in danger if we took Quasimodo in. Can you believe it?" she huffed in annoyance.

"So…" I started slowly. "You don't care about me sneaking out to talk to him at all?"

My Mom smiled at me. "Of course not, sweetie. I'm sorry you got yelled at, though. What a horrible man." She smiled again and started smoothing my hair. "So, tell me, what is Quasimodo like?"

"Deformed, like Mr. Frollo said," I said. "But sweet. And scared, but I don't blame him, having to hang around Frollo like he does. The guy probably tells him all sorts of horrible things all the time." That really got me angry, but I continued. "But he seemed really nice and a bit shy, but that's to be expected. I think you and Dad are going to love him."

My Mom smiled in relief. Her and my Dad always have this fear that whenever a kid comes to stay with us, that they'll hate them. My parents won't ever give the kids up unless something changes with their family arrangement or the kid wants to leave. The latter never happens, but they're still afraid that one day it might.

At that moment, the door opened again. In stepped Frollo, a contemptuous smirk on his face, followed closely by Quasimodo, looking miserable and carrying a single, battered suitcase and his messenger bag. My Mom went immediately to him, a smile on her face, and the boy flinched. But my Mom didn't seem to notice (though I know she did).

"Hello Quasimodo," she said warmly, taking his suitcase. "I'm Helen, and this is my daughter Izzy, whom you've met." I raised my hand in greeting and Quasimodo looked straight at me. I held his gaze, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by looking away. Just then, my Dad entered the room and stood behind me, grabbing my shoulders. My Mom gestured to him and continued, "And this is my husband, Richard."

My Dad nodded to Quasimodo. "Good to meet you, son," he said. Quasimodo blinked and frowned, but I couldn't say why.

Mr. Frollo cleared his throat. "I shall give you another opportunity to reconsider—"

"No," said my Dad firmly. "Thank you."

I glanced at Quasimodo, and he looked visibly relieved. When he saw me looking, I smiled, to show that I wasn't staring. He gave me a faint smile back, and my heart had hope.

Maybe this would work out after all.


	3. Chapter Two: Settling In

_A/N: Well, I know this is technically still Thursday, but what the heck, might as well update now. Anyways, thanks for the reviews the last time! I'm glad you guys don't think this is crazy. _

_Also, I apologize for the random references to other things in here. It's just to make it realistic. Yeah. That and I love the show Leverage :)_

_Anyways, enjoy this next update and drop a review if you don't mind! _

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><p>Chapter Two-Settling in<p>

_If you really put a small value upon yourself, rest assured that the world will not raise your price._

_~Author Unknown_

After some random and minor details took place (most of which are boring) Mr. Frollo left, but not after whispering something in Quasimodo's ear; something which, judging by the look on Quasimodo's face, a mixture of fear and misery, was not pleasant. Nevertheless, he finally left, allowing the rest of us to breathe a huge sigh of relief.

My Dad immediately went up to Quasimodo and stuck out his hand. Quasimodo, without the hesitation that he showed with me, took it gladly. "It's very good to finally meet you, young man," he said in his deep, reassuring voice. "We've heard quite a lot about you."

"I'm afraid I haven't heard that much about you," said Quasimodo quietly. "Except a little bit from your daughter." He smiled shyly at me, and I smiled back while mentally slapping myself. Of course he would bring up my one moment of stupidity.

But my parents didn't notice. My Mom clapped her hands. "Well, let's get you settled in, shall we?" She beckoned to Quasimodo to follow her, and they both ascended the stairs, my Mom very gracefully and Quasimodo with his limping gait. As soon as they were upstairs and out of earshot, I turned to my Dad.

"So, what do you think of him?" I asked, grinning up at him. "Do you think he'll be a problem child like the file says?"

My Dad grinned wryly. "Unless he turns out to be a world class thief or a serial killer, I'd say we'll keep him."

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><p>Dinner that night was awkward to say the least. Quasimodo wasn't the talkative sort, and my Mom kept trying to make conversation with him. He gave the bare minimum of answers and never made eye contact, but my Mom wouldn't give up. I tried to help the conversation along, just to make my Mom feel better, but eventually I gave up. My Dad didn't even attempt to talk, and just said the occasional phrase like, "Pass the salt" or "Nice dinner" both of which drove my Mother insane.<p>

That night, I stayed up later than I should have, just bumming around on my computer. I could hear Quasimodo in the room next to mine (he had taken over my brother's old room). He seemed to just be either, A. tossing and turning, or B. bumming around like I was. I thought about going over and seeing which option was right, but decided against it. The poor kid just got here; he didn't need a complete stranger going over to the middle of night just to "chat".

Eventually, I turned off my computer and went to bed. I couldn't hear Quasimodo anymore.

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><p>I woke up around nine the next morning and stumbled out of bed. Thumping down the stairs, I flicked on the TV and went to grab myself a bowl of cereal. I had just settled myself on the couch when I saw the note from my Dad on the door leading to the garage.<p>

_Izzy, _

_I had to go into work early today, and your mother has to run errands for her school group. Keep Quasimodo company, will ya? _

_I'll be back at 7, your mother around 5. _

_Have fun, be safe, _

_Love Dad_

_Oh… _I thought. _That's why they're not here. It makes sense now. _My Mom's a teacher's assistant, and every year during the summer (rain or shine as it proved yesterday; it was going to be a wet summer) the school hosts a "summer camp" for the kids AKA summer school. They do all sorts of fun crafts and things, so it makes sense that she had to run errands.

Just as I had crumpled up the note, Quasimodo entered the room, fully dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. Suddenly, I felt sheepish for wearing only camo PJ shorts and a Justice League T-shirt.

"Hey," I said, smiling at him. I held up my bowl of cereal. "Do you want some breakfast? All we have is cereal though."

Quasimodo shrugged. "Cereal's fine."

I nodded. "The bowl's are in the cupboard over there," I said, pointing to the second cupboard on the right. "And the cereal's on the counter. Just pour yourself a bowl and come watch TV if you want."

"Thank you," said Quasimodo, in his quiet way. He lumbered into the kitchen, while I went back out to the family room and sat myself on the couch. Hitting the DVR button, I turned on a re-run of _Leverage _and contented myself with my cereal. Eventually, Quasimodo joined me, sitting down on the couch like someone who's a stranger and doesn't want to ruin the upholstery.

"Have you ever seen _Leverage_, Quasimodo?" I asked. Quasimodo shook his head. As I began explaining the characters and the plot of the show, I noticed that Quasimodo looked very ill at ease. He seemed tense, as if one wrong move or one wrong word from him and blam! I'd be running for the hills.

After the show was over, I paused the TV and turned to him. "You know," I said, hoping that he wouldn't freak out and take this the wrong way. "You don't have to be afraid of me."

Quasimodo's face took on a confused look. "A-afraid?" he said. "I-I'm not afraid of _y-you_."

"Then what are you afraid of?" I asked. When he didn't answer, I said, "Frollo's not here you know."

Quasimodo sighed. "I know."

* * *

><p>The morning passed with little to mention. For a while, Quasimodo and I just watched TV, with me having to pause and explain certain shows he'd never heard of from time to time. Finally, though, the TV was turned off and we were left with nothing to do.<p>

"So, Quasimodo," I said. "What do you want to do today?"

Quasimodo shrugged. Over the course of the morning he had grown more comfortable in the family room (whether by conscious decision or not I wasn't sure) and was now slouched in what looked like a comfortable position on the couch. He still wouldn't make eye contact with me, but at least this was progress.

I started rambling off options. "We could go outside, we have huge backyard with swings and stuff, or we could play Wii or we could just hang out here and do nothing all day…" I trailed off, looking to Quasimodo to see what he wanted to do.

"I d-don't care what we do," said Quasimodo quietly.

I smiled. Glancing out the window, I saw that the rain from yesterday had let up. "Let's go outside."

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><p>After I got dressed, Quasimodo and I went outside and I started showing Quasimodo around the backyard. We do have a big backyard, with a tire swing and a tree house. After I showed Quasimodo the tree house, I watched his face light up like a kid at Christmas. <em>Funny, he looks like a normal person when he smiles.<em> Turning to me, he asked eagerly, "Can I go up?"

"Sure," I conceded, and watched in amazement as Quasimodo began to climb the tree and literally vault into the tree house. "Uh," I called as I climbed up the ladder to the tree house. "You know there's a ladder, right?"

Upon reaching the tree house I saw Quasimodo, leaning against the railing on the tree house and staring out over the rest of the neighborhood. He seemed sad, but I didn't know why.

"Hey," I said, going over to stand next to him. "What's up?"

"Oh, n-nothing," said Quasimodo, stammering a little. "Just…observing."

"Ah," I said, nodding, though not entirely in understanding.

After a moment of silence, Quasimodo spoke again. "D-do you ever feeling, er, not n-normal?"

I frowned. Turning to look at Quasimodo again, I could see that he was refusing to look at me, and was just staring off into the distance. "Well, yeah," I said, leaning against the railing next to Quasimodo. "Sometimes." I paused in thought before adding, "A lot of people feel the same way, you know."

"B-but why do you f-feel not normal?" asked Quasimodo quietly.

I shrugged. "I don't know. It depends." Then inspiration struck me. "But, it usually happens when I begin comparing myself to other people."

Quasimodo looked at me, then. "Why would you do that?" he asked, aghast. "You don't need to, you're…" He trailed off then and looked back out over the neighborhood.

But I totally knew what he meant, and I blushed slightly. I hadn't ever considered myself _pretty_; my black hair was long and usually frizzy, and my skin was dark so I was always mistaken for being Mexican. "I don't know. I think it's a people thing." I nudged Quasimodo playfully with my shoulder, ignoring when he flinched slightly. "So, yes, it's not just you." I smiled at him. Quasimodo, though not completely meeting my gaze, smiled as well.

I turned back to look over the neighborhood. _Well, at least it's progress. _


	4. Chapter Three: Arguing sucks

_A/N: Yeah, I gave up on the "let's make everyone wait a week for the next chapter" and I'm just gonna update whenever. Yeah. This chapter has, like one swear word in it. I dislike swearing, so there won't be any extremely bad bad words in this story ever, just a few here and there to make the story realistic. Because, sadly, people swear in real life. Anyways, enjoy this next chapter, it's one of my favorites :) _

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><p>Chapter Three-Arguing sucks<p>

_To us, family means putting your arms around each other and being there. _

_~Barbara Bush_

The next week went by insanely quickly. The rain did eventually let up and it began to get warm again, making Quasimodo and I very happy. Every day we would go outside and hang out in the tree house, swing on the tire swing, or just run around in the grass like little kids. The rest of the time we just hung out in our separate rooms, only coming out when my Mom and Dad got home. Although Quasimodo was still very shy and kept looking to me for approval every time he spoke, he seemed more relaxed around the house.

My parents were still busy. My Mom was busy with her "summer school" stuff, and my Dad had to go into work early every day. So, it was just me and Quasimodo most of the time.

It turned out to be fine, though. Quasimodo became a lot more comfortable with me than with my parents, it seemed, and although I knew my Mom really wanted Quasimodo to be comfortable with her as well, I knew she was happy that we were becoming friends.

Then, one day, Phoebus called.

Phoebus is my older brother, and had left for college two years previous. We had always been close, so I had been very depressed for a while, and it was always a treat when he called on the weekends.

_Ring, ring, ring. _

"I've got it!" I yelled, running and slipping on the wood flooring in my attempt to reach the phone. Quasimodo chuckled at me. Scowling playfully at him, I answered the phone. "Hello?"

"_Hey Izzy Tizzy, what's hanging?" _came Phoebus' voice over the phone, sarcastic as ever.

"Hey, Phoebus Dweebus," I replied coolly. "How's college life?"

"_Meh, pretty lame,"_ he said. I could almost hear him shrug. _"But I guess that's because you're not here to shake things up."_

I rolled my eyes. "Right, you _totally_ need me to do that."

"_Hey, did that foster kid get there yet? I'd like to meet him,"_ said Phoebus, sounding genuinely interested.

"Yeah, he's here if you want to talk to him." I motioned Quasimodo over. His eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. I rolled my eyes at him, and grabbed his arm trying to pull him towards the phone. It was like trying to move a brick wall.

"_Sure, that'd be great," _said Phoebus. _"Er…what's his name again?"_

"It's Quasimodo," I replied. "Here he is." I handed the phone to Quasimodo, and he took it gingerly, as if he would break it by accident.

"H-hello?" he said hesitantly. I frowned; I thought his stutter was getting better. I decided that it was nerves.

"Oh, yes, everyone's b-been very kind," said Quasimodo, glancing at me. I smiled in encouragement. Quasimodo paused for a few minutes, listening to my brother. Then he answered.

"What? Oh, thank you. Good bye," he said, softly, handing the phone back to me.

"Hey Phoebus," I said, smiling at Quasimodo again. He smiled briefly, refusing to make eye contact, and then exited the room. _Huh, weird._

"_Hey sis,"_ came Phoebus' voice. _"He's a good kid. I hope you're taking care of him."_

I glanced in the direction that Quasimodo had gone. "Yeah, he is," I said softly. "Um, did Mom and Dad tell you about…?"

"_Yeah,"_ said Phoebus, sounding sad. _"Poor kid. I heard about Frollo too, and I nearly fell out of my chair I was so mad."_

I nodded then realized he couldn't see me. "I know. Hey, what'd you say to Quasimodo anyways?"

"_I asked him if everything's been going alright. Then I said welcome to the family. Why?" _

"I don't know; he just seemed distant when he got off the phone. I was just wondering what you'd said, that's all."

"_Ah, say no more. Well, give Mum and Dad my love and tell them I'll be flying in next week. See ya later, Izzy Tizzy." _

"See ya then, Phoebus Dweebus." I heard the click on the other end that signified Phoebus had hung up. I hung up on my end, and set the phone down.

I heard Quasimodo banging around upstairs. Then I heard a loud, CRASH!

Frowning, I rushed upstairs to see what was going on up there.

* * *

><p>When I reached the upstairs, I went directly to Quasimodo's room. Throwing the door open, I was surprised to see Quasimodo lying on the floor, an upset chair lying next to him.<p>

"What happened?" I demanded worriedly. Quasimodo stood up, looking sheepish.

"I-I tried hanging up my mobile," he said quietly. "But the chair fell over."

He held up the mobile so I could see it, and I was astonished. It was made out of shards of colored glass, all strung together by strands of intricate wire and string. It was very beautiful to look at, and I had to step closer to fully examine its beauty.

"Wow," I said quietly. "It's beautiful. Where'd you get it?"

Quasimodo said shyly, "I-I made it."

I gaped at him. "You _made_ it?" Quasimodo nodded.

"Is that bad?" he inquired hesitantly. I shook my head.

"No! It's wonderful! I had no idea you could do stuff like this! Do you have anything else that you do?"

Quasimodo shrugged. "I used to do some wood carving, but Frollo didn't…" He trailed off again, not making eye contact.

I looked him in the eye. "Frollo didn't what?" I asked gently.

Quasimodo took a deep breath. "He didn't like it," he said. "So he made me promise never to do it again."

I frowned. "Well that's stupid," I said. Quasimodo looked shocked. I continued, "He can't make you do anything, especially now you're living with us." I marched out the door. "Come on."

I couldn't see Quasimodo's face, but I could tell by his voice that he was bewildered. "W-where?" he asked.

"The craft store," I said. "Or where ever you go to get wood carving stuff. We can take my car and you can pick out whatever stuff you want." I was half way down the stairs when I noticed that Quasimodo wasn't following me. I turned around and marched back up the stairs and saw Quasimodo standing in the doorway to his room, staring at his hands. "Well? Are you coming?"

"I-I can't," he whispered. Then he closed the door.

* * *

><p>"Quasimodo, you can't stay cooped up in there forever!" I shouted through the door. Quasimodo had holed himself up in his room for hours, and refused to come out, no matter what I did or said. <em>Good thing my parents aren't home, <em>I thought. _They'd flip out._

"I'm not coming out, Izzy," said Quasimodo firmly, his voice slightly muffled through the door. "I don't need supplies that badly."

"It's not about the wood carving, Quasimodo," I said. But just as I opened my mouth to say more, Quasimodo opened the door, looking angry.

"Do you know what my name means?" he asked. He looked so mad I didn't say anything, just shook my head slowly. "It means 'half-formed' in Latin. _That's_ what my mother named me when she saw me, before promptly giving me up for adoption. _That's_ what my name means. It explains why people run and scream and flinch when they see me. Now, I don't know what your deal is or what the hell you want from me, but will you just _leave_ _me_ _alone_?" He slammed the door in my face.

I stood there, stunned. I had no idea. Granted, he had never given any indications or said anything about his name or about his past. He had never said anything until this moment.

After a moment, I turned away from Quasimodo's closed door and went to my room. I lay on the floor in silence, and as I lay there, I could've sworn I heard him crying softly through the wall that separated our rooms.

And as I lay there, my heart slowly broke.


	5. Chapter Four: Phoebus Dweebus

_A/N: I finally finished it! :D But, you're gonna have to wait for a while to get the rest of the story! Aren't I evil? ;) Anyways, this is the next chapter to _Become_, and some questions get answered and plot lines get started. I'm so excited!_

_Thanks to all who reviewed last time (you know who you are, awesome people) and I appreciate the love this story is getting. I tip my hat to you._

_Now, enjoy the next chapter._

* * *

><p>Chapter Four-Phoebus Dweebus<p>

_A stiff apology is a second insult...The injured party does not want to be compensated because he has been wronged; he wants to be healed because he has been hurt. _

_~G.K. Chesterton_

The next week went by slowly.

Quasimodo refused to talk to me since his outburst. My parents went to work, and he stayed in his room, only venturing out for the occasional snack and for dinner. My Dad went to talk to him a couple of nights in a row, but after a while it seemed as if nothing could reach him. He seemed to simply close off, and not want to talk to anybody.

I talked to my Mom about it. I told her everything, the entire conversation, the entire argument. She understood that it wasn't my fault, that I had no idea that inviting him to go shopping would have caused his outburst. We shared a few good tears over his name. After a while, I came up with an idea.

"We need to shorten it," I said. "I always thought 'Quasimodo' was too big a mouthful anyways."

So, we sat down and came up with the nickname 'Quasi' and decided to refer to him that way instead and see what happened.

It caught him off guard the first time.

It was early morning, and I was sitting there watching TV when he came downstairs looking for breakfast. I took a deep breath, steeled myself for the possible reaction and said, "Good morning, Quasi," in the calmest voice I could muster.

There was a pause in the sound of cereal pouring into a bowl. "W-what?" came the quiet response.

I turned and looked over the couch into the kitchen. "I said, good morning, Quasi," I said, smiling a little. "Is the nickname ok?"

Quasimodo was looking at me with a puzzled expression on his face. Suddenly his face broke into a grin. "Yeah," he said. "It's ok."

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Good." I turned back to my show. After a moment, I said, "You know, _Izzy's_ a nickname too."

Quasimodo brought his bowl of cereal over to the couch and sat down next to me. The first time since the argument. "Really?" he asked, genuinely curious. "What's it short for?"

I shrugged. "Esmeralda."

* * *

><p>"Phoebus!" I cried, jumping into my brother's arms. He had literally just walked into the house and put his suitcase down when I ran up to him and leaped. Phoebus grabbed me with his strong arms, and backed out into the front yard onto the grass. Then he spun me around and around until we both collapsed on the grass, gasping for air, and laughing hysterically.<p>

"Hey, Izzy," he said, after we had calmed down. "I missed you."

I was still trying to keep myself under control. "Yeah," I eventually gasped out. "I missed you too."

We both started laughing again as Phoebus helped me up and we headed into the house. Phoebus was greeted with a pat on the back from my Dad, and a huge hug from my Mom.

"How's college life treating ya?" my Dad asked him.

Phoebus shrugged. "It's alright."

"You'll have to tell us all about it over dinner," said my Mom. "It's almost ready."

I was smiling and laughing along with the conversation for a while, until a sudden thought struck me. _Where's Quasi?_

I excused myself and went upstairs. Going to Quasimodo's room I knocked softly on the door. "Quasi?" I called. "Are you in there?"

The door opened and there stood Quasimodo, looking miserable. I immediately became concerned.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Quasimodo shook his head. Suddenly, it hit me. He didn't want Phoebus to see him.

"Hey," I said gently. "Phoebus won't give a crap about…_that._ He's a good guy. Besides, you've talked to him on the phone, remember?"

Quasimodo nodded, slowly. "Yeah, but t-the phone is different."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed his hand. Quasimodo looked startled but he didn't pull away. "Come on," I said. "Let's go downstairs. It's time you met the rest of the family."

I nearly dragged Quasimodo down the stairs and into the family room. The TV was on, with Phoebus and my Dad watched the football game, and my Mom in the kitchen. I cleared my throat. "Phoebus," I said. He looked up, and his face softened when he saw Quasimodo. "This is Quasi."

Phoebus lost no time with introductions. "Hey, Quasi!" he called, standing up. He held out his hand and Quasimodo took it. "It's nice to finally put a face to a voice! How've you been since I last talked to you, man?"

Quasimodo shrugged. "Alright, I guess."

Phoebus grinned. "And Izzy Tizzy hasn't been bothering you at all?"

"Shut up Phoebus Dweebus," I retorted, smiling.

Quasimodo looked lost between the two of us, but he was smiling, so I figured he was ok.

"So, Quasi," said Phoebus, sitting down again, Quasi joining him. "Do you like the Seahawks?"

I left after that, I can't stand football, and went to help my Mom in the kitchen. As soon as I got in there I was greeted with a large hug from my Mom.

"What was that for?" I asked her.

She smiled at me. "Thanks for being such a great friend for Quasi," she said. "He really needs one."

I shrugged. "I think he'll be closer to Phoebus than me," I said, glancing into the family room where the boys were still engrossed in sports. "It's a guy thing."

* * *

><p>That night at dinner was uneventful, for the most part. The five of us just ate our food in relative silence, having it broken only by my Mom asked Phoebus the occasional question about college life. Whenever she brought it up though, Phoebus seemed distant, and only answered the question half-heartedly. Finally, at the end of dinner, he said, "Alright."<p>

The tone in which he said that one word was not promising. I was suddenly nervous as Phoebus continued, "Mom, Dad, I have something I need to say." Phoebus took a deep breath. "I'm thinking about joining the army after I graduate in two years."

Silence. As I explained to Quasimodo later, my Dad was dead set against the army for his children. Oh, he was patriotic and supported the troops and everything; just as long as they weren't his kids. I couldn't imagine what must have run through his mind as soon as Phoebus said those words. Lots of profanity probably.

And my Mom. She supported the troops as well, but it had never occurred to her that her babies could ever think to join up someday. Especially not Phoebus. _Especially _not Phoebus.

And me. I was just stunned; never saw this coming.

I couldn't even imagine what Quasimodo felt, if he cared at all. Maybe he was ok with it, I don't know.

Phoebus seemed to want a response. "Well?" he asked hesitantly, turning to my Dad. "Do I get your approval?"

My Dad, refusing to meet Phoebus' gaze, simply stood up and took his dishes to the kitchen. The water turned on and we could hear dishes clacking against each other.

My Mom refused to meet his gaze as well, and just stared at her plate numbly. I didn't know what to say.

Phoebus turned to Quasimodo. "What do you think, man?" he asked. His eyes seemed to be searching Quasimodo's face for some sign of approval, and it did not go unnoticed by Quasimodo.

Quasimodo sighed. "Is it worth hurting your family over?" he asked in his quiet way.

And this time it was Phoebus who was silent.

* * *

><p>That night, in my room, I heard Phoebus knock on Quasimodo's door. I heard Quasimodo open the door and Phoebus went in and they began to talk in hushed voices. Telling myself that the laws of eavesdropping didn't apply to brothers, I opened my closet door and listened through the wall. I was able to pick up some of the conversation like that.<p>

"I don't know, Quasi," said Phoebus, his voice slightly muffled through the wall. "What do you think I should do?"

"How should I know?" asked Quasimodo, sounding exasperated. "I just got here; you've lived here your whole life. This is your family, not mine."

Phoebus sighed. "I haven't lived here my whole life, Quasi," he said quietly, so quietly I almost missed it. "I was adopted when I was seven."

There was a long pause while Quasimodo digested this news. Phoebus continued, "I didn't think that this would be my family either. 'The Trouillefou's don't need another kid; they already have Esmeralda to worry about. Why would they want me?' I thought. Even at seven years old I understood that nobody wanted me, and that nobody probably would want me. Most families wanted younger kids; and I was simply too old. I understood that.

"Izzy was five at the time, so she doesn't remember how _angry_ I was all the time. Even though I was seven I had learned lots of profanity from various people I had stayed with, and I wasn't afraid to use it. I was a right little _dick_." He chuckled. "To this day, I still don't know how they managed to put up with me _and_ managed to keep Izzy innocent. But they did, and I'm forever grateful. Now I have a family."

There was a long pause. Yeah, I knew that Phoebus was adopted; I had known that since I was really little. (It wasn't that hard to figure out if you thought about it. He looked nothing like the rest of the family; while my parents and I had darker skin and dark hair and dark eyes, Phoebus had a fair complexion, blond hair, and blue eyes. A lot of people didn't know we were related, and while we went to the same high school, a couple of people had thought we were dating.) But, I had never heard Phoebus' side of the story, and it was strange to hear after all this time.

Suddenly, I heard Quasi's voice, very quiet, "Not m-me. It's never me."

I heard a _creak _in the floorboards, like Phoebus had stood up, and then he said, "Give 'em a chance, Quasi," he said. "I know for a fact that Izzy likes you. And Mom and Dad do too. And trust me, they will never send you away." I heard another chuckle. "No matter _what_ you do to them. Isn't that right Izzy?" he shouted through the closet wall.

I blushed and jumped away from the wall. This was yet another reason to hate the fact that Phoebus knew me so well.

"Right, Dweebus!" I yelled back.

This time I could hear both Quasi and Phoebus laugh right out. I laughed too, and I felt happy. It was good to have Phoebus back.


	6. Chapter Five: Brothers

_A/N: It's a slightly shorter chapter this time and it mostly consists of lots of family related fluff. I love fluff. There's also a bit of swearing, just as a heads up. Thanks to all who've favorited and reviewed, it's pretty awesome! :)_

Chapter Five-Brothers

_There's no other love like the love for a brother. There's no other love like the love from a brother. _

_~Terri Guillemets_

My parents were still slightly angry at Phoebus over the whole army thing. I had quickly forgiven him, and had told him that he could do whatever he wanted he was, after all, an adult now albeit a stupid one. He had laughed and ruffled my hair.

Quasimodo wasn't quite sure how to handle the whole situation. Phoebus never brought it up with him again, and I didn't talk about it, so he simply avoided my parents whenever they brought it up.

My Dad couldn't seem to drop the subject. Whenever he and Phoebus were in the same room, he would bring it up and try to talk Phoebus out of it. Phoebus would always have a retort waiting, about how he felt that he needed to serve his country, that sort of thing, but my Dad refused to buy it. I couldn't understand why he was being so stubborn about it; just let the guy make his own decisions!

One day, Phoebus lost it with him.

"Look," he said, after yet another hour of my Dad badgering him about the army. "I don't care if you give your 'permission' anymore. This is my decision and you need to damn well _respect_ it!" Then he grabbed his keys and left. I heard him drive swiftly away, leaving my Dad, stunned, standing in the kitchen. He looked as lost as I felt.

* * *

><p>"Quasi, what the hell am I supposed to do?" I asked, storming into Quasimodo's room. I usually knocked, but I was so upset I didn't care at that moment. Quasimodo seemed to understand, even though he looked startled and quickly hid what was in his hands. I was curious, but I didn't question it. "I mean," I continued. "I respect Phoebus' decision and all, but my parents refuse to, and I don't know how to handle them and Phoebus." I slumped over on Quasimodo's bed, my head facing the ground and my feet dangling. "Do you have any ideas?"<p>

"Don't get involved," was Quasimodo's prompt reply. I sat up and gave him a strange look. "No, seriously," he said. "This issue is between Phoebus and your parents; you have no reason to get involved." He shrugged. "Besides, you and Phoebus are ok with everything, right?" I nodded. "There you are then. If everything's ok with Phoebus, then you don't need to get involved with everything else."

I gaped at him. "Quasi, I think that's the most I've ever heard you say without stuttering. Period."

He smiled wryly. "I don't actually have a stutter. It just comes out sometimes when I can't help it."

"I think it's getting better," I said, smiling. When he looked puzzled, I went on. "You're more comfortable here. Even with Phoebus and the whole…thing."

He knew what I meant. "I g-guess so," he stuttered, and then shook his head. "Damn, I really gotta work on that." He grinned sheepishly at me.

I laughed. "It's ok," I said. "There's plenty of time to work on it."

Quasimodo smiled, but it quickly faded. "Not really," he said. "Soon I'll have to leave, and then it'll be right back to the beginning."

I shook my head decisively. "No," I said forcefully. He looked at me, surprised. I floundered for an explanation. "No, you won't have to start from the beginning. Because…it's impossible for you to start from the beginning, because… we'll be friends. And we weren't friends in the beginning."

Quasimodo looked at me, choosing to ignore my strange babbling. "You know, you were the first person to ever not freak out when they saw me for the first time. I was really surprised and a bit wary at first. I had wondered if you had seen me earlier, and had just been steeling yourself since then. Either way, I wanted to stay here. I figured, if _you_ were ok with my appearance after becoming used to it, then maybe the rest of the family would be too." He paused here and took a deep breath. "Then, when Frollo had come back and yelled at you for being there at all, I suddenly realized that you hadn't seen me before. That you had come out, been completely surprised by me, and didn't care.

"And then your folks were completely ok with me, and they didn't flinch or stare. They treated me like I was _normal_. I've never been treated like I was normal. Ever. And Phoebus was the same way, even on the phone, welcoming me to the family and all that." He paused at looked at me. "I am eternally grateful to you, Esmeralda," he said softly. "You changed my world perspective. And I can't imagine where I'd be without you."

He had never said so much before. I was proud of him for divulging so much personal stuff to me, and at the same time overwhelmed with emotion. He was grateful to _me_? For simply treating him like a human being? It was too much; I felt tears welling up in my eyes and streaming down my cheeks.

Tears that did not go noticed by Quasimodo. "Oh, Izzy," he said, softly and nervously. "D-don't cry."

I chuckled through my tears. "Stuttering again," I hiccupped. Suddenly, without even processing what I was doing, I got off the bed and wrapped my arms around Quasimodo. He tensed up, but relaxed and wrapped his strong arms around my back. I smiled, and was struck by a sudden thought.

Quasimodo was now, and forever would be, my little brother.

And I would never let him go.


	7. Chapter Six: Revelations about Relations

_A/N: So, this chapter is sort of depressing and has a teeny tiny bit of swearing. Just a heads up. Also, I don't think that the things Quasi talks about are actually _legal_ (you'll get what I mean in a minute) but you never know. There are a lot of abused children in the world…_

_But, yeah. Thanks to everyone who has favorited/reviewed so far! I tip my hat to you wonderful people :) _

Chapter Six-Revelations of the Relation Sort

_Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. _

_~Frederick Buechner_

Eventually, Phoebus came home.

He pulled into the driveway around one in the morning. My blinds were open, and his headlights somehow managed to hit my face and woke me up. At first, I was insanely irritated, but became wide awake when I heard the front door open and my brother slowly creep up the stairs.

Then I heard the hallway light flick on.

"Dad," I heard Phoebus say softly.

"Phoebus," my Dad said. There was a long pause. "I…just want you to know that, I respect your decision. You _are_ an adult and fully capable of deciding things for yourself."

I smiled in the darkness of my room. This was about as close as my Dad got to apologizing, and I knew Phoebus knew it too.

"Thanks, Dad," he said. I heard footsteps, a brief pause, like they were hugging, and the light flicked off.

As I drifted back into sleep I felt that everything was right with the world.

* * *

><p>Almost.<p>

Mr. Frollo called the next morning, claiming to be "checking up" on Quasimodo. My parents were working again and Phoebus was sleeping late. Quasimodo and I had gotten up slightly earlier than usual and were eating our meager breakfast of cereal and watching TV when the phone rang.

In hindsight, I was glad I had answered it first. I don't know how Quasimodo would've taken it if he had been the one to answer.

"Hello?" I answered on the third ring.

"_Are your parents available?"_ came the snide voice.

"Who is this?" I asked, bewildered by the question.

"_Mr. Frollo. Are your parents available, stupid girl?" _

"No," I said, abruptly, ignoring the insult. "They're out."

"_Then, may I speak to Quasimodo?" _

I glanced at Quasimodo, looking content on the couch, watching TV. "Why?" I demanded.

"_I need to check up on his progress in your household," _said Frollo, his voice thick with contempt. _"Let me speak to him or I will have to alert the authorities." _

I gritted my teeth. There was no way around this without getting into serious trouble. "I'll go get him," I spat out.

Covering the mouth piece with my hand I walked to the couch. Quasimodo, seeing my pained expression, immediately paused his show and said, "What's wrong?"

"Frollo's on the phone," I stated simply. I knew beating around the bush wasn't going to help in this situation. "He wants to talk to you."

Quasimodo's face lost what little color it had. He gulped. "A-a-alright."

I handed him the phone, the stutter not going unnoticed, and mouthed, _"I'll be right back." _Quasimodo nodded, though he looked like he didn't want me going anywhere, and I ran upstairs. Grabbing the other line, I pushed the talk button and started listening to the other conversation.

"_How are they treating you, boy?" _asked Frollo, coldly.

"_F-fine,"_ stuttered Quasimodo. _"They're all very kind."_

"_Stop your stutter, boy,"_ snapped Frollo. _"It does nothing to help your situation." _

"_Y-yes sir," _said Quasimodo. _"Izzy's been helping me work on it." _

I smiled a bit at that one. But what Frollo said next completely wiped that smile off my face.

"_Don't get attached, boy, because I'm coming to get you next week. The Andersons have agreed to take you back, despite what happened the _last_ time. You remember what happened last time, don't you?"_

There was silence on Quasimodo's end. Frollo continued, _"Tell the Trouillefou's that I will call them back later today to work out the details."_

The line went dead.

I sat there, holding the other phone, stunned. What did this mean—that Quasimodo was going to leave us _forever_?

I couldn't let that happen. I mean, he had only been there for about a month, and already he had embedded himself into this family. Phoebus went to him to talk about "guy stuff" (whatever that was), Dad had bonded with him over sports, and my Mom adored him and his sweet nature. And he was just coming out of his shell—taking him away now would ruin all that.

I thudded slowly down the stairs and headed into the family room. I saw Quasimodo sitting on the couch, the phone hanging limply in his hand. He was staring at the paused picture on the TV screen, deep in thought. I could only imagine what must be going through his head.

I cleared my throat. When he didn't respond, I said, "Who're the Andersons?"

Another long pause. Then Quasi looked at me, his eyes clouded over, and said, "The last family I stayed with." He took a deep breath and explained, "They weren't the best people to live with.

"The guy was a drunk. Still is, probably, I haven't seen them since. He would treat everyone terrible, but I think he harbored a special hatred for me. Whenever he was in one of his moods, he would call me 'the devil,' 'bastard child' or— my personal favorite—_monster_."

I couldn't process what I was hearing. Quasi a…_monster_? The idea was laughable. Ludicrous. I almost wanted to stop Quasi from talking, to let him know that he was anything but…_that_. But he continued to talk, like he hadn't told anybody any of this ever before. And, knowing Quasi, he probably hadn't.

"The lady was nice enough, but she was scared to death of me," Quasi continued. "Wouldn't speak to me, never made eye contact, even when _I_ tried to. They had a bunch of other foster kids living with them at the time, and they were all horrible. They all smoked, drank, you name it they did it." He chuckled, an empty laugh. "They had the sense to not try to offer anything to me, though. I think they were scared of me too, just too tough to admit it.

"Anyways, one night the cops show up because the neighbors called about drug abuse, the usual stuff. And the other kids blamed me, even went so far as to plant all their stuff under my mattress. Well, the police took me in, and the Andersons didn't breathe a word in my defense. The lady wouldn't even make eye contact, didn't say a word.

"So they took me away. Eventually, the cops figured out that it wasn't me, and I was released. That's when Frollo showed up again, and took me away from the Andersons. He said he had another family that was willing to take me in, even though he had 'warned them of the possible consequences'." Quasi snorted. "I didn't care at that moment if the other family was made up of aliens; all I wanted to do was get away from that place and start over.

"And then you and your parents were so kind. I was confused, first by your Mother with her smile and then by your Dad who called me 'son'. It was slightly overwhelming, but I eventually got used to it. Too used to it, I guess." Quasi sighed. "I should've known it would be too good to last."

_If this one incident was any indicator of what Quasi had been through in his life, than he must be the loneliest boy in the world_, I thought. Tears were threatening to spill over again, but I quickly blinked them away.

But Quasi, sweet boy, didn't fail to notice them.

"Oh, Izzy," he said softly. "R-really, you don't have to feel sorry for me. I'm not worth it, really."

That was the last straw. I flung my arms around him and held him close. "Don't you ever say that!" I said angrily, my voice slightly muffled by his shirt. I could feel him tense up again, as he always did when people touched him. That only made me hold him all the tighter and say, "You are worth a hundred Andersons, never forget that!" I pulled away from him and sat next to him on the couch. Looking him in the eye, I said, "We'll figure this out. I promise."

Just then, Phoebus wandered into the room, wearing nothing but Superman boxers and a t-shirt, his blond hair mussed from sleeping. He yawned widely, but seeing the look on our faces, became concerned. "Did I miss something?" he asked hesitantly.

* * *

><p>After hearing our explanation of the situation, Phoebus was furious. It surprised me; I hadn't seen him that angry in a long time. He demanded to call Frollo back, but Quasi protested.<p>

"N-no!" he exclaimed. "Frollo will be furious if anyone besides your parents call. No, it's better that we leave it till one or both of your parents get home."

Neither of us questioned him, and we all decided to wait until Mom and Dad got home. They could sort this mess out.

At least, I hoped so.


	8. Chapter Seven: Leaving

_A/N: For some reason…this story reminds me of my other long Hunchback story. Huh. Go figure. Anyways, I enjoy this chapter, even if it is depressing, mostly because Quasi is awesome (but we all knew that). Also, it's almost the end of this story! All that's left is another chapter and the epilogue. And there's probably no sequel planned (because the last sequel I tried to write really didn't work out…) unless people beg. And even then, I might not do one. We'll see, I suppose._

_But, I'm rambling. Enjoy this chapter, however depressing it might be, and drop a review if you please. _

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven-Leaving<p>

_Why does it take a minute to say hello and forever to say goodbye?_

_~Unknown_

Dad was furious. Mom was stunned. And yet, no matter how many phone calls they made, no matter how much they argued, begged and pleaded, there was no changing the matter. Everything had been processed, the deed was done.

The house was strangely quiet for days, and a dark cloud hung over everything.

Because our son, brother, and friend was leaving us forever.

* * *

><p>"Quasi?" I opened the door to his room slowly. Quasi sat at his desk, his back turned to me. He didn't even look up as I entered the room, so I knew something was desperately wrong.<p>

Three guesses as to what that was.

I sat on his bed, my legs crossed, and we just sat in silence for several long minutes. Finally, Quasi turned around, holding something in his hands. "Here," he said softly, holding out the object. "To remember me by."

I took the object from him. It was a miniature carving of me wearing my favorite blue t-shirt complete with jeans. My arms were outstretched, like I was welcoming someone into them, and I had a small smile on my face. "Oh, _Quasi_," I said, my breath catching in my throat. "It's perfect." Then I looked at him confused. "But, when do you get the supplies?"

Quasi shrugged. "Phoebus took me to pick some stuff up the other day. I…I didn't want to tell you."

My head tilted to the side. "Why?"

Quasi shrugged again, and wouldn't look me in the eye. Suddenly, I understood. Pride. He hadn't wanted to admit that I was right, so he hadn't said anything. And neither had Phoebus, the _twit_. I was going to have to talk to him about that soon…

"Izzy," said Quasi suddenly.

I blinked; confused by the abrupt way he said my name. "Yes?"

"Have you ever wanted to…Become?" asked Quasi hesitantly.

I blinked again. "Explain please," I asked.

Quasi began. "All my life I've wanted to Become, Don't ask me to explain it, I couldn't if I tried. There's a part of me, though, that wants to reach Become." Quasi tried to gesture with his hands, as if trying to demonstrate what Become is. "I wish I could explain what Become is better. It's…acceptance, I think would be the closest term for it. Have you ever wanted that?"

I nodded slowly. "I think everyone does," I said. "Everyone wants to be accepted by other people, in one way or another."

Quasi shook his head. "I don't think that's what Become means."

There were a few moments of silence. I turned the carving of myself over in my hands.

"Well," I said, holding up the carving and abruptly changing the subject. "Have you made any others?"

Quasi nodded, accepting the subject change and smiled. I thought I saw some of the same sparkle that had been present the day I showed him the tree house. It seemed forever ago now. "Yes, of course," he said eagerly, turning around in his chair and opening a drawer in his desk. "I made one for everyone."

He brought out three more carvings, one of Mom, Dad, and Phoebus. The carvings each represented their models perfectly, and I spent a good amount of time marveling over them. "Quasi, they're amazing!" I exclaimed. "But…where's one of you?"

Quasi frowned. "Why would I make one for myself?" I shook my head.

"No, I mean, one of yourself for _us_," I clarified. "We're gonna want to remember you too."

"W-well, that's what these are for," said Quasi, gesturing to the other carvings.

"But, I want one of _you_," I said. "Unless you'd prefer to have your picture taken."

Quasi chuckled unexpectedly. "Heaven's no," he said. "I'd break the lens."

I chuckled a bit at the absurdity of his statement then smacked him on the arm. It was like hitting a wall. "Don't talk about yourself like that."

"Izzy," he said, looking me in the eye. He didn't say anything else, but I understood. Joking was how he coped.

The door opened then and my Mom entered. She smiled to see the two of us, just talking. Quasi quickly hid the carvings, and I tucked mine under my leg. "Hey guys," she said. "I was just wondering, Quasi, if you wanted any help…_packing_."

That last word lingered in the room like an elephant. No one wanted to admit it, but the truth still existed—Quasi was leaving in the morning, and there was nothing to be done. The finality of that single word brought everything crashing down, and I felt sick.

I stood up abruptly and exited the room, tearing threatening to spill over. Quasi looked concerned, but he let me go. My Mom did the same.

As I gently closed my door, I heard Quasi say, "Yes, Mrs. Trouillefou, I would like that."

"Quasi," my Mom said. "Call me Helen."

* * *

><p>Frollo was right on time, naturally. When he entered the living room, everyone just seemed to glare at him, not really caring if he noticed or not. Phoebus especially seemed to despise him—and he hadn't even seen Frollo the last time, nor had he experienced his cruel behavior towards Quasi.<p>

Frollo just sneered openly at us. "Well," he said. "It seems like this was not meant to be after all." He turned to Quasi. "Are you ready, Quasimodo?"

"It's Quasi," Quasi said suddenly. Frollo looked mildly surprised. "I go by _Quasi_."

I was silently cheering. _You go Quasi._

Frollo merely shrugged. "Call yourself whatever you like, you are still leaving."

Quasi ignored him for the moment. Setting down his suitcase, he turned to me. "Thanks, Izzy," he said. "For…everything."

I smiled wide. Quasi enveloped me in a large hug while I hugged him back. Before either of us realized it, my parents and Phoebus had joined the hug, and soon the entire family was surrounding Quasi.

The moment was cut short by Frollo clearing his throat loudly. As everyone broke apart, my Dad took Quasi aside and whispered something into his ear. At that, Quasi gave a small smile, and shook my Dad's hand. "Thanks," he said.

Phoebus ruffled his hair. "Take care kid," he said. Quasi gave him a light shove on the arm. Then it was my Mom's turn.

"Goodbye, Quasi," she said softly. Quasi smiled at her, and gave her a hug as well.

And then he was gone.

Frollo whisked him away quickly, and soon he was in the car with his bags, waving to us out of the back window.

I didn't try to stop the tears that fell.

Gosh, that sounds emo.

* * *

><p>I didn't go into my room until an hour later, after my family had finally stopped sitting and staring off into space, thinking. I had entered my room, and I hadn't noticed the little object sitting on the bed until I was nearly sitting on it.<p>

It was a little miniature carving of Quasi.

And he was smiling.


	9. Chapter Eight: Become

_A/N: Well, this chapter is insanely short. It's really just filler before getting to the epilogue, which will be pretty epic if I do say so myself :) I'm quite excited for it! _

_Oh, and I introduced a new character (or an old character if you think about it) into the mix. He serves his purpose well, I think, and I enjoy him immensely. But who doesn't? ;)_

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time! *cough* sheep1215 *cough* :) I'm glad you like it so far! And it won't end that sadly, promise._

_Anyways, enjoy this chapter (despite it's shortness) and drop a review would you please?_

* * *

><p>Chapter Eight-Become<p>

_When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves. _

_~Victor Frankl_

Everything was changing.

Phoebus left for boot camp a few weeks after Quasi had left us. A few months later I started college with a major in Psychology. I had found my calling in helping people, I guess.

After Quasi left, I felt different somehow.

I had accepted myself. I liked my reflection, finally. I felt like a whole new person. And I had figured out what Quasi had meant by Become; by accepting Quasimodo, a strange, sweet, misshapen boy, into my life and into my heart, I had finally accepted _myself_.

He had completely changed my world perspective, that little brother of mine.

And I still couldn't find him.

There are simply too many people listed as "Anderson" in the phone book. For a while I went about it systematically, just going through the names and calling people. But, after a while, with no results, I stopped.

I had to focus on my school anyways, I told myself.

But I missed Quasi so very much.

* * *

><p>I had this friend in college, a theater major guy with a minor in Psych who everyone called Clopin. He was a freshman like me, originally from Canada (unlike me) and we had wound up meeting in one of my Psych classes. After several weeks of chatting about nothing in particular, our families had come up in conversation.<p>

I wound up telling him everything about my crazy family life in the past year. About Phoebus and his army tales, about my parents and how great they were. And about Quasi. In fact, a lot of the conversation was about Quasi; I had even shown him the carvings that I had brought with me from home. Clopin was very interested in his story, and wouldn't stop asking questions, so eventually I got fed up with answering them all the time.

"Look, how about I just write it all down for you, so that you'll finally get all of your questions answered!" I had exclaimed in exasperation.

Clopin, surprisingly, had liked the idea. "Yes, _mon cheri_. And please, write it all down in story form, to make it all the more exciting." I punched him in the arm for the French term, then sat down and actually thought about his proposal. To write down the last year of my life in story form.

I eventually did it, and it took me several months to write and perfect it. Clopin, after reading and enjoying the entire story, finally let the subject drop, apparently having all his questions answered.

And yet, I feel like all _my_ questions haven't been answered fully. Because this story still doesn't feel quite complete.


	10. Epilogue

_A/N: Well, I couldn't wait any longer, so here is the epilogue to _Become._ It's short, but it should tie up any loose ends that needed to be tied up. I'm actually quite happy with the way it turned out; not at all like I thought it would when I started writing it! Anyways, thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, and read this story! It's been a blast! Cheers~ KingofJesters_

* * *

><p>Epilogue<p>

_Peace - that was the other name for home. _

_~Kathleen Norris_

Christmas break.

I flew home to see my parents, who had been missing me terribly (or so they claimed). Phoebus, who had finished with boot camp and was now finishing his degree at the community college complements of the army, was also going to be there, and it would be one of the rare times that the whole family would be together.

Well, _almost_, anyways.

Nothing unusual happened on the way home that year. The flight home was long and boring, but nothing happened worth mentioning. Well, except for this weird old lady (her name was Miss Gudule, or something like that) who sat next to me on the plane who kept claiming that I was her long lost grand-daughter or something, but after a while I didn't really pay any attention to her.

It was when I got off the plane that the first magical thing happened.

It was snowing.

You have to understand, it _never_ ever snows in Oregon. Ever. So, landing at the Portland Airport and seeing a thin blanket of snow over everything made me so happy. It always felt like Christmas when it snowed, and this year was no exception.

Phoebus picked me up from the airport that day. My parents, although they were desperate to see me again, couldn't make it to the airport for unknown reasons. As soon as I had gotten off that plane, I literally ran into Phoebus, nearly knocking him off balance.

"Hey, I missed you too!" he exclaimed, laughing and trying to right himself.

"I missed you a whole _lot_, Phoebus," I said, smiling up at him. He had always been taller than me. And now with his military haircut, he looked even taller for some reason. Intimidating, and almost heroic. Maybe it was just me.

Phoebus took my backpack and started walking towards the baggage claim. "Come on," he said. "Let's go get your bags. There's a special surprise waiting for you in the car."

I frowned, confused. "What is that supposed to mean?" I asked. "Is there a puppy or something?"

Phoebus laughed. "Not even close. But keep guessing, you'll never get it in a million years!"

Well, I was never one to back down from a challenge. All the way to the baggage claim, I guessed possibility after possibility, all to be shot down by my brother.

I never expected what it actually was.

* * *

><p>Walking up to the car dragging my bag behind me, I couldn't stop thinking about what the "surprise" might be. Phoebus kept smirking at me, and I kept shooting him irritated glances. He knew how much surprises bothered me, and I just knew that he was squirming inside, just waiting for me to see what it was.<p>

As we reached the car, the second magical thing happened. The passenger door opened, much to my surprise, and out stepped someone I didn't think I'd see ever again.

_Quasi._

He stood there in the cold parking garage in his old green sweatshirt, looking sheepish but very happy. "Hey, Izzy," he said. "How's college?"

I dropped my bag and nearly bowled him over running into him. I couldn't help it, I started crying. I hadn't seen him in so long; I had nearly given up on the fact that I would see him ever again. In fact, the first thing I said after I had regained control of my emotions was, "H-how?"

Quasi shrugged, his eyes glassy. "Your parents, er…" He glanced at Phoebus for help.

Phoebus grinned. "Poor guy can't even talk about it. Mom and Dad _adopted_ him, Izzy."

I gaped in shock. "And nobody thought to tell me this piece of information? How long has this been going on?"

Quasi shrugged. "All year basically."

"Mum and Dad didn't want to tell you in case it didn't work out," said Phoebus. "It seemed silly to worry you since you're so far away."

I scoffed. "That's stupid, you should have told me!" I hugged Quasi again. "I'm just so happy to see you!"

Quasi hugged me back and whispered softly in my ear, "I missed you too...big sis."

In that moment, the last year without my brother was forgotten; for once the world was perfect.

And my story finally seemed complete.

_Fin_


End file.
